


Touched

by Medeafic



Series: Supernova [3]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Biting, D/s, M/M, Painful Sex, Rimming, Very light sadomasochism, brief mention of asphyxiation play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:42:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/pseuds/Medeafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris arrives in New York to see Zach.  Finally!  But things are a little weird for both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touched

When Chris reaches the door of his New York hotel room, he stops the bellhop who insisted on taking up his bag, and tips him liberally.  “I’ve got it from here,” he says with a friendly smile.  He waits until the bellhop, sharp-eyed with curiosity, disappears back into the elevator.  Some of the hotel staff probably know anyway, but it doesn’t hurt to be discreet.

He has a key card in his hand for the door, but it doesn’t seem quite right to use it.  The anticipation is making him feel off-kilter, and he’s already tired from getting up too early.  He raises a hand twice before he actually gets it together enough to knock, and the wait for the door to open is long, too long.  He’s about to knock again before it opens – and Zach is there, looking the same as always, with a smile and a vulnerable look in his eyes.  It’s that look that makes Chris a little more confident.  At least he isn’t the only one worrying that things might have changed.

“Hey,” Zach says, leaning against the door frame.  He’s all long legs and studied hair, and Chris wonders if he’s practiced this moment, rehearsed it to get it down.

“Hey,” Chris says.  “They let you in okay?”

Zach gives him a long up and down look.  “Your publicist left instructions, yeah.  See, she’s good for something.  You look…”

Chris reaches out to touch him, but Zach grabs his wrist, pulls him inside.  As soon as the door clicks shut behind them, Zach is on him, pushing back the way they’ve come, so that Chris thuds into the closed door.  “Oh, okay,” he says, just before his mouth is full of Zach’s tongue.  He was expecting a few _I missed yous_ or _I love yous_ , but this is fine.  Better than fine.  Zach has his arms pinned above his head against the door.

And everything is exactly how he remembered.

“Wait, wait!” he gasps, when Zach moves from his mouth.

“This had better be good,” Zach says into his ear.

“My bag,” Chris says faintly.  “I left it outside.”

Zach laughs, and pulls back, and Chris smiles like a maniac at him, wanting to keep this moment, just like this, forever.

“What are you doing, staring at me like that?” Zach grins.

“Taking pictures.”  Chris taps his temple.

“Well, you look like you’ve gone insane.  Move.  We’d better get your bag before someone unscrupulous finds it.”

While Zach grabs his case, Chris yawns and looks around the room.  The suite is beautiful, and elegant, and well-appointed, but Chris barely registers anything except the fact that Zach is wearing ridiculously tight jeans and a genuinely ugly t-shirt. 

“Dude, that is honestly the _worst_ –” but before anything else comes out, Zach is kissing him again, hard, in a way that will bruise tomorrow, pulling his arms behind him so he can’t move, and Chris could not care less about his shirt anymore.

“You were saying?” Zach murmurs when they break.

“Nothing.  Nothing.  Kiss me again.”

Zach smiles, smug.  “Miss me?”

Chris wriggles closer, thrusting his hips into Zach’s.  “You think?”

“Gratifying.  Hey, take your clothes off, Christopher.”  Zach lets him go and moves away a little to get a better view.

Chris turns pink, but does what he’s told automatically.  Zach always likes to be unsettling if he gets a chance, so Chris has come to expect the unexpected.  And by the time Zach left LA, Chris had become used to stripping in front of him, but the break, being apart – things have changed.  He’s back to being a little embarrassed.

Zach comes closer when Chris is down to his briefs, and traces a finger over the tide mark of flushed skin across his shoulders and chest.  He gives a lazy smile.  “You’re like a blushing virgin.”

“Shut up,” Chris growls, feeling his ears go red too.

“Don’t you like it when I look at you?” Zach teases, and Chris reaches out towards him.

“I prefer it when you touch me,” he says.  Zach bats his hands away gently.

“I’ve been waiting to see _this_ view again for too long.  Not going to rush things.  You are so fucking beautiful.”  He leans in from a distance, almost chastely, for a soft kiss.

“It’s a curse,” Chris says against his mouth.  “I have to live with it.  You wouldn’t understand.”  He lifts his hands up to Zach’s face, but Zach pulls away.

“Put your hands behind your back.  No touching.”

“No touching?” Chris is disappointed, but he does as he’s told.  Zach looks pleased.  He comes closer, hooks his fingers over the elastic band of Chris’s underwear.  Chris, who has been trying to maintain eye contact, swallows hard and blinks.  He watches Zach’s mouth twist into a small half-smirk and tries to kiss him again.  Zach allows a brief brush over his lips before he slides Chris’s underwear down.

Chris is rapidly getting hard.  He feels the now-familiar ache.  He hasn’t come since Zach outlawed it almost a week ago, and it _hurts_.  Zach holds his face delicately by the chin and studies his eyes.  “You’ve been good?” he asks.  “No touching yourself?”

Chris makes a slightly pained face at him.  “No touching myself.”

Zach looks satisfied and stands back a little.  “So beautiful,” he says again, looking Chris over.  “All golden.  You’re such a California boy.”  Chris feels a twinge of something unidentifiable, and frowns a little.  But then Zach grasps his shoulders and walks him backwards towards the bathroom.  “Shower,” he says briefly.  “That’s where I want you.”

Showering actually sounds like a great idea to Chris.  He still smells of smog and airports.  Zach makes him stand facing the wall under the warm water while he undresses himself outside.  At the touch of Zach’s hand sliding over his hip, Chris braces against the tiles.  But Zach pulls him into his chest, wrapping his arms around him.

“I have _missed_ you.  So much.  So I’m gonna get you all nice and clean,” he says into Chris’s ear.  “And then I’m going to have my wicked way with you.”

“Oh, _fuck_.”

“Among other things.  Pass me the soap.”

Chris wants to make a stupid comment about prison showers, but his mouth isn’t working as well as it was a few seconds ago, so he fumbles for the soap instead and pushes it in to Zach’s hand.

Zach wasn’t lying; he lathers up every inch of Chris’s skin and washes him off methodically.  “I missed every single bit of you.”  He uses a light hand over Chris’s erection, thankfully, because by the time he gets to it, Chris is about ready to blow.  “Best for last,” he says eventually, sliding a slippery hand over Chris’s ass.  He gives a short laugh as Chris arches back into him.  “Still no coming till I say.”  Chris groans a protest.  “Oh, you know you love it.”

He traces his fingers over the sharpie _ZQ_ initialed on Chris’s ass.  “You’ve still got my mark on you,” Zach murmurs.  “Such a good boy.  Following all the rules.” 

“I brought the sharpie with me.”

“We can let it fade and I’ll write it on you again,” Zach suggests, and Chris shivers.  “Before you leave.  You like that idea?”

“Yes.”  Chris forgets for a second, and grabs at Zach’s hips, pulling him closer.  “But I don’t want to think about leaving _already_.”

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Zach snaps, and Chris snatches them away.

“Sorry,” he mutters.  But it still doesn’t seem fair.  They’ve been apart so long and now he can’t even touch?

“It’s been a while since we’ve been together,” Zach says graciously.  “So I guess I can’t expect _perfect_ obedience.” 

Chris curls his fingers against his own skin in frustration.  “You’re not being very fair,” he says.

Zach slides his spare hand all the way up Chris’s torso, gently closing fingers around his throat.  Chris can feel his pulse drumming against Zach’s palm, and drops his head back onto Zach’s shoulder.  “No.  I’m not,” Zach agrees.

“Choke me,” Chris says, and smiles at Zach’s disapproving noise.  “One day?”

“Unlikely.”

“But –”

“No.  It’s too dangerous.  But I’ll tell you what I _am_ going to do.  Tease you for a while like this –” Chris feels a finger rubbing firmly over his asshole, and the sensation is so heartbreakingly familiar and so wanted that his legs start shaking.  “And after that, I’m going to tease you with my tongue.”

Chris can feel Zach smiling against his neck at the sound he makes.

“Would you like that?”

“Yeah.”  It’s not something Zach does to him often, because it usually makes Chris come in record time.  And given the current circumstances…  “Yeah, do that.”

“Ask me nicely.”  His fingers won’t quit.

“Please?”

“No, ask me the whole thing.”

“Please,” Chris says.  “Please would you use your tongue?”

“Not like that – ask me like you mean it.”

Chris squirms.  He’s never been as shameless as Zach, especially when it comes to his ass.  But Zach’s starting to push a gentle fingertip inside him now, and it’s hard to argue with that.

“Would you please rim me?”

“Better.  But still so _clinical_.  Ask again.” 

“Jesus, could you just –”

“Nope.”

“Why do you _do_ this?”

Zach gives him a sharp nip on the neck.  “Because I like it when you’re all red in the face and embarrassed.  Now ask me.  Properly.”

Chris grits his teeth.  “Zachary Quinto, would you please tongue fuck me till my knees buckle?”  At least it earns him a laugh.

“Christopher Pine, I would be delighted.”  Zach guides him up against the wall and pushes his feet wider.  “Don’t move.  And _don’t_ come.  I mean it.”

That’s difficult.  So difficult.  But he doesn’t have long to think about it.  Zach kneels down behind him and at the very first bite, high up on his thigh, Chris starts gasping.  The bites, Zach’s hands pulling him open, his tongue flicking and probing and teasing, his mouth sucking – everything is heightened.  And when Zach runs a fat, hard lick from his balls to his tailbone, Chris has to pull away.

“Wait – Zach – it’s – I’m gonna – _too drastic_ ,” he babbles, eventually finding his slow down safe words.  They’re not right on the forefront of his consciousness anymore, he realizes.  Zach nips him hard at the junction of ass and thigh.  The pain helps Chris’s control.

“You’re so easy,” Zach says, standing up again.  “Ow.  Saves my knees, anyway.”

Chris has wrapped his fingers hard around the base of his cock to ward off an orgasm.  He twists around, leaning his back against the tiles, eyes closed.  “Dude, seriously.  I can’t take any teasing right now.”  Chris feels the edge retreating, but it’s still too close.

“Okay,” Zach grins.  “Let’s get you all dried off.”  Zach insists on toweling him off, murmuring “You look tired,” in his ear.

“Tired of not being able to come,” Chris retorts, as Zach assiduously pats his cock dry.  He does feel grumpy and overtired, but by God, he’s getting laid before he sleeps.

“You seem to be assuming I’m going to let you come tonight,” Zach says, amused.

Chris feels a rush of resentment, but says nothing.  Zach watches his face, interested.  He traces a finger between Chris’s eyes, smoothing out the frown line.  “You’ve been very good, holding on for so long,” he says.  “I know it’s been difficult for you.”

 _Damn straight_ , Chris thinks.  He deserves some credit.

“Come on,” Zach says with a smile.  “Let’s go to bed.  I’ll let you come.”

Chris stumbles after him, relief making his legs shaky.  He flops on to the bed, exhaustion creeping all over his body, but he’s not going to give into that, no way. 

“How do you want it?” Zach asks.  He has Chris pinned down beneath him, hair falling into his eyes, and Chris doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so amazing.  Not for the last six weeks, at least.  “Your choice.  You’ve earned it.  Quick or slow?”

“Quick.  And hard.  Like…like the first time you did it.” 

Zach raises his eyebrows.  “Are you sure?  It’s been a while.  It’ll _hurt_.”

Chris nods.  “I’ve missed the pain.  I want it to hurt.” 

Zach’s eyes flare and his fingers clench into Chris’s shoulders.  “Alright,” he says.  “If that’s really what you want.”

Chris smiles blissfully.

“And how do you want _me_?  Nice?  Or not so nice?” 

“When are _you_ ever nice?” Chris asks, breathless. 

“Hey, now.  I can be nice, Christopher,” Zach smirks, and twists at Chris’s nipple until he yelps.

“Sure you can,” Chris says, laughing.  “Okay, be nice to me.”

“You’ve had a long day,” Zach agrees.  “I’ll be nice.  I have big plans for the week, anyway.”

Nice, for Zach, is shoving Chris on to all fours and holding his face down into the pillow with one hand, squeezing the back of his neck while he fucks him.  It’s rough, and yes, it hurts, because Chris hasn’t done this for weeks, and it’s the best thing he’s felt since Zach left. 

When he tires of that, Zach flips him over and bends Chris’s legs up.  “Look at me,” he says.  Chris meets his eyes and makes a pleading noise.  “You want me?”

“ _Yes_ , come on.”  He reaches out to grab at him, but Zach seizes his wrist.

“ _No touching_ without permission, Christopher.  You want to touch me, _ask_ first.”

Yeah.  Real nice.  “Please may I touch you, _Zachary_?”

Zach starts pushing deep into his ass again and Chris shudders.  He feels Zach’s fingers contract hard around his wrist.  _Yep, that’ll mark_ , he thinks contentedly.  Zach starts sucking Chris’s fingers into his mouth, and Chris is reminded of every time Zach has used his tongue to make him come.  His fingers curl and Zach bites at them gently, pulls them out of his mouth slowly.

“No,” he says, and Chris has to think about what he means. 

“No?”

“No, you may not touch me.”  Zach pulls Chris’s hand closer and gives it a long, wet lick up the palm.

Chris makes a guttural noise and bucks his hips.  “Zach, come _on_.”

“But you can touch yourself.  Because I’m being _nice_.  Right?”

“Very nice,” Chris groans.  Touch himself?  Not helpful right now, not if Zach won’t let him –

Zach spits right into the hollow of Chris’s palm, not breaking his gaze.  It’s almost too much.  “Zach, seriously, I’m not gonna be able to hold –”

“You’d better,” he growls.  Chris closes his eyes, because if he keeps looking, he’s definitely going to come.  He feels Zach pushing his hand down, feels his own fingers wrapping around his own cock.  “Go on,” Zach says.  “You wanted to touch, so touch.”

Zach starts up the rhythm he uses when he wants to make Chris shoot fast, and Chris is kind of astonished that he still knows it after what feels like eons of time apart.  “Zach –”

“I know,” he says.  “Just hold on a little bit, just a little, not long.”  And Chris can hear that Zach is close too, so it’s okay.  He tugs at his dick, bites his lip hard, tries to think about anything except this, but it’s impossible.  “ _Christ_ , I’ve missed you,” Zach is saying, and Chris opens his eyes again, sees his boyfriend drunk on fucking him – it’s too much. 

“ _Zach_.”

“Okay.”

Chris arches up off the bed, shocked at how hard his orgasm hits him.  And then Zach is leaning into him so he can reach Chris’s shoulder with his mouth.  The pain from the bite is like a second climax.  And finally, _finally_ , Zach allows him to touch – to grab at the back of his neck and pull him down to bite again.

And after that, Chris can’t let him go.  He clings like a limpet, even when Zach tries to pull out.  Wraps his legs and arms around Zach’s long limbs, and hugs insistently.

“I…” he says, but he can’t finish.

“I know,” Zach whispers, and kisses his neck softly.  And then after a second, “But you’re squishing your jizz all over me and it feels weird.”

Chris laughs.  “Too bad.”  He holds on a few more minutes and then relents.  “Okay.”

He forces himself off the bed and goes to clean up.  He doesn’t have the energy for a shower, but Zach follows him and wipes him down with a warm washcloth.  “Thanks,” Chris says.  “I’m kinda…”  He yawns.  Zach wants to rub some sort of cream all over his asshole, which is admittedly sore, but Chris won’t let him.  “I’m _fine_ ,” he insists.  He’s forgotten how insistent Zach is on all this aftercare stuff.  But it seems like such a hassle right now.  “It’s _my_ goddamn butthole,” Chris says firmly.  “I’m fine.”

Zach isn’t happy about it, but he relents; lets Chris have his own way in the end.

“Still good?” Zach asks when they’re both back in bed.  He’s lying on his back, looking at the artistic ceiling fan.

Chris makes a noise, supposed to indicate agreement.  He’s too tired and too comfortable and too achy to talk.

“Subverbal, huh?  I guess that’s a good sign.”

“Very good,” Chris says slowly, and it’s definitely too much effort.  “Sleep now, okay?”  He’s been up since before dawn, and it’s catching up to him.

“Okay.  You sleep.  We can compare notes later.”

Chris grunts.

“I wish you could have just stayed at my place the whole time,” Zach says.  “That would have been nice.  I really love the neighborhood.  I think you will too.”

Suddenly Chris is less sleepy.  “You know I wanted to stay with you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“They wanted me to be circumspect,” Chris says shortly, and sees Zach flick a glance towards him. 

“I know,” Zach says carefully.  “I just meant it would have been nice.”

Chris feels the beginning of irritation and tries to stop talking, but it’s too late.  “I _would_ have if I could, but they said –”

“Yeah, I _know_.  I’m not criticizing you.  Jesus.”

Chris props himself up on an elbow.  “Hey, I’m sorry I’m not as fucking awesome as you, Zach, but I guess –”

Zach is up too now, drawing his brows together.  “You’re getting _pissed_ at me for wanting you to stay at my place?  Seriously?”

They glare at each other. 

Zach says, “Less than a day in the same city and you’re already trying to pick a fight with me.  Are you going for a record, Pine?”

Chris collapses again.  He’s too tired for this.  “Whatever.”  Zach looks at him, and he can feel it, but he closes his eyes.

“I don’t want to fight,” Zach says quietly.

“We’re not fighting.  Just – let me sleep for a while.”

When he wakes an hour later, Zach is still sitting next to him, reading the book Chris bought for the plane.  “I wouldn’t have picked you as a Dan Brown fan,” Zach says.

“Fuck _you_.  I just grabbed the first thing I saw,” Chris says defensively, and Zach gives him an exasperated look.

“Have I suddenly lost my ability to speak the English language?  Because everything I say seems to be coming out as _You suck_.”

Chris pulls the pillow over his head and doesn’t say anything.  He has a horrible ball of something in his chest.

“Okay, fine.  I’m going to shower again.”  Chris feels the book bounce on the bed as Zach gets up, but he refuses to look out from under the pillow.

“I’m just tired,” he says, but Zach has already left the room.  And Chris feels resentful and cranky and ugly and he wishes Zach would just go back to his perfect fucking apartment and his perfect fucking life in perfect fucking New York and leave him to slouch back to LA.

Chris drags himself up and opens his suitcase; grabs the sweats on top and pulls them on.  He slumps on the sofa and turns on the flatscreen.  Nothing good is on, but he stares at it, unseeing, as the water starts in the bathroom.  His mood darkens further.  By the time the shower stops running, Chris feels like a big black hole of bitterness in the middle of Zach’s beloved city, sucking in everything good and destroying it.  A singularity on a sofa.

Zach comes out wrapped in a low-slung towel and stands in front of the television, arms folded. 

“You’re in the way,” Chris says blankly.

“What in the hell is going on, Chris?  Hey – _look_ at me.”  Chris resentfully drags his gaze to Zach’s face.  Zach looks annoyed, but also – something else.  Something that Chris rarely sees and hates when he does.  Zach looks afraid.

Chris stands up immediately and reaches out for him.  “Don’t look like that,” he says into Zach’s neck.  He pulls him close, ignoring the fact that Zach is still damp.

“I’m sorry,” Zach says, his arms closing around Chris.  “For whatever I did.  I’m sorry.”

Chris hugs him hard.  “No, it’s me.  I’m just – I don’t know.  I miss you.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

Zach hair is dripping water onto Chris’s shoulder, cold tracks sliding down his back.  He pulls back slowly and looks at Zach.  “I miss you,” he says again.  “I hate it.  And I want you to come back.  I know –” he raises his hand to silence Zach.  “I know you can’t, not right now.  And we agreed that we’d make this work.  I just didn’t know how difficult it would be.  And…everything you say makes it seem like you never want to come back to LA.”

Zach still looks scared.  “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying it’s difficult.”  Chris frowns, confused.  “I think we should –”

“Okay, sure.  Fine.  Whatever.”

“– work out a visiting schedule,” Chris finishes.

“Oh!  Really?  Oh.  Okay.”  Chris watches Zach wipe surprise and relief from his face and settle back into neutrality, like an acting exercise.

“What did you _think_ I was going to say?”

“I don’t know.  I was just…agreeing.”

Chris looks at him skeptically.  “Two words, Quinto.  Honesty.  Policy.”

Zach swears under his breath.  “You know, you really _do_ suck,” he says.  “If you _must_ know, I thought you were going to say we should take a break.”

Chris stares at him, but Zach pretends to adjust his towel.  “Why would you think that?”

“Because I’ve had the ‘take a break’ conversation a lot, and you were throwing out some key phrases.  And – and you’ve been acting like you hate me.”  He lifts his head then, and gives a challenging look at Chris. 

“Oh.”  Chris drops his gaze.  “Honestly, man?  I’m…jealous.”

Zach looks puzzled.  “I would never cheat on you.”

Chris gives a mirthless laugh.  “Zach, I’m jealous of _New York_.”

“Of –”

“Yeah, I _realize_ how crazy that sounds.  So don’t make fun of me, okay?  I can’t take any teasing right now.”

“You’re jealous of New York?  But – why?”

“You love it here.  You _love_ this city.”

“But you know I love you more than New York, right?”  Zach means it as a joke, but then he sees Chris’s expression.  “Oh, _Christopher_.”

“Tell me again.”

“I love you more than New York.  _Much_ more.”

They look at each other, serious.  “Okay,” Chris says finally.  “I _am_ insane, aren’t I?”

“Maybe a bit touched,” Zach grins.  “But that’s okay.  I love your brand of crazy.”

Zach pulls him in for a kiss, and Chris feels better.  More grounded.  Slightly less crazy.  The long distance thing suddenly seems far less problematic.  “So we need to keep using the rules.  And we should visit each other as often as possible,” Chris says, thinking aloud as Zach sucks at his neck.  “Fuck circumspection.  And we need to set dates for it.  At least then there’s something to look forward to.”

“Sounds good,” Zach says, licking up his face.

“You know, you’ve barely marked me up at all,” Chris complains.  “I thought that would be the first thing you’d do.”

Zach pulls back, smirking.  “So impatient, all the time.  I told you, I have something planned, but it takes a couple of days.  And I knew you’d be tired, so–”

“Don’t you ever get jealous?” Chris asks suddenly, and Zach looks taken aback.

“Of _Los Angeles_?” he asks, like it’s pure insanity.

“No,” Chris says.  “I mean…the fake relationships.  The tabloid photos.”

“You text me about them.”

It’s true.  Every time a picture of Chris with a woman touted as his new girlfriend pops up in a tabloid or online gossip column, he feels compelled to text Zach and reassure him.  Zach’s insouciant replies make him wonder each time why he bothered.  But he still does it.

“You _really_ don’t care?” Chris asks, the edge back in his voice.

Zach pulls Chris gently into him by the back of the neck, so that their foreheads are touching.  His tone is mild when he replies.  “I’ve kept every text you sent me so I can reread them if I need to.  I’d be a complete fucking mess if you just let those pictures go by without comment.  But you don’t.  So I’m not.”

Chris thinks about that for a moment.  “Well, now I just feel like a jerk.”

“You’re not a jerk.  But if it’ll make you feel better, you can make it up to me,” Zach smiles, and Chris feels a shiver run through him.  But that’s not what Zach means right now.  “Let me take you out and show you the city.  Please.  I want to share it with you.”  There’s excitement in his eyes, and Chris tries to ignore the ache in his heart.

“Fine,” Chris sighs.  “Take me out and show me your whore.  I have to shower first, though.”  When he opens his case to grab a change of clothes, Chris remembers.  “Oh, hey – I brought you a present.  From LA.”

Zach is fiddling with his hair in the mirror, and looks surprised.  He turns around, and Chris can practically read his mind.  _What could I possibly want from LA_?  Chris tries to ignore it, keeps the smile on his face.

“They’re a bit smooshed up,” he says apologetically.  “But I guess that doesn’t matter.”  He holds up a familiar paper bag.

Zach looks touched.  “You brought me a cookie thing?”  He opens the bag and looks inside.  “Wow.  _Four_ cookie things!”

“You said they didn’t taste the same here,” Chris shrugs.  “And I guessed you were probably having withdrawal symptoms.  So, yeah.  I thought the airport might confiscate them, but – _oof_.”

Zach is hugging him harder than he ever has before.

“Um,” Chris croaks finally.  “I need oxygen, buddy.”

“Sorry.”  Zach pulls back, looking sheepish.  His eyes are bright, but Chris pretends not to notice.

“Well, hell, if I’d known you loved them that much–”

“I _do_ ,” Zach says fervently, looking at him.  “I do love them that much.”

“So there’s _some_ good stuff back in LA?”

Zach smiles at him, and Chris has never seen him look so totally smitten.  “There’s _lots_ of good stuff back in LA,” he says.  “I’m not going to forget the good stuff.”

  
***

  
Zach says they can walk to the restaurant or get a cab, but Chris feels like stretching his legs.  Also, the less sitting he has to do right now, the better.

“You really didn’t hold back there, man,” he says, wincing.

“That’s what you asked for.  And afterwards, you wouldn’t let me –”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Chris sighs.  “I’m just saying, for the record: _ouch_.”

“I’ll come back and stay with you tonight,” Zach says as they walk, “but I want you to come to my place tomorrow, okay?  I really want you there.”

“Bossy, aren’t you?” Chris says, but he smiles at Zach’s eagerness.  “Sure, Zach.  We can do that.”

The restaurant is busy, despite the late hour, but they manage to get a relatively private table.  “ _Amazing_ omelets here, with organic eggs,” Zach says enthusiastically.  “But the warm chicken salad is really good too.  Or they have a falafel platter –”

“I think I’ll get the chicken salad,” Chris says, wrinkling his nose.  Zach chuckles.  “So I wanted to ask your advice about something.  Career stuff.”

“Okay?”  Zach sounds surprised.

“I want to try out for this play,” Chris explains.  “My publicist and my manager think I should stick to films for now.  But I’d really like to do some theater work again.  Plus, I figure there would be less pap attention if I did a play.”

Zach looks doubtful.

“What?”

“Well, it’s just…if you’re pretending to go out with hot women for publicity, I don’t think it’s going to matter much to the paps whether you do films or plays.”  He says it casually, playing with his cutlery.  But Chris gives him a sharp look.  “I mean, the whole _point_ of that is to get photographed.  Or at least talked about.”

“So do you think I should stop –”

“Chris, I think you should do what you think is best,” Zach says, smiling vaguely.  “If you want to do a play, you should.”  He takes a long sip of water.

“Is that what you really think?”  Chris raises an eyebrow. 

“Yes.  In accordance with rule two, the Honesty Policy, that is what I really think.”

“Oh.  Well.  Okay.”

The food arrives, and they eat in silence for a while.  Chris finds he’s really hungry, and wolfs everything down.

“You need any help there?” Zach asks with a snort.

“Plfud _ucks_.”  Chris takes an enormous swallow and tries again.  “Plane food sucks.  I never eat it.  And when I got here, I immediately indulged in a long bout of really good sex.  I am _starving_ , Quinto.  So if your hand hovers anywhere near here, expect to lose a finger to my fork.”

“I _offered_ you a cookie thing before we left.”

“They’re _yours_ ,” Chris says.  “Like this is mine.”

“Jeez,” Zach says.  “You’re awfully possessive of your food.”  He sucks on his own fork thoughtfully, watching Chris attack his salad with renewed gusto.  “Maybe we should instate a new rule: Zach gets to eat off Chris’s plate if he wants.”

Chris frowns.  “No fucking way.”

“But why not?”  Zach is smirking at him now.  He extends his leg forward and kicks Chris gently under the table.  “Huh?  Why not?”

Chris pauses, the last bite of chicken, feta and roasted pepper speared on the end of his fork, and looks at Zach.  “Fine,” he sighs, and points the fork at Zach’s mouth.  “If that’s what you want.  Enjoy.”

Zach looks startled, and then laughs.  “I was just kidding,” he says.  “Don’t worry, Pine.  I’m not going to take the sustenance from your very mouth.”  He pushes Chris’s hand back towards the plate. 

After they’ve eaten, Zach wants to take him out to his favorite club and Chris agrees, although he’s worn out.  Zach raises a hand to flag a cab outside the restaurant, but glances back at Chris.  “Wait.  You look tired,” he says, dropping his arm. 

“I’m fine,” Chris shrugs.  “I’ll be fine.”

“You look fucking _exhausted_.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Chris insists.  “Come on, you wanted to show me your city.  So show me.  It’s early in LA, anyway.  I’m still on west-coast time.” 

Zach looks unconvinced.  “It’s eleven o’clock in LA.”

“That’s early.  Ish.”

“Chris –”

A cab honks impatiently right in front of them, making them both jump.  “Jesus!” Chris laughs.  “Well, I’m wide awake now.  Come on,” he says, getting in.  Zach follows.  “Where are we going?” Chris asks him.

“Just the Bowery Hotel,” Zach tells the driver, who keeps up a litany of complaint the whole way there about what a waste of time it is driving them a few blocks.

“Zach, seriously, I’d _like_ to go –”

“Christopher, be quiet,” Zach says, and Chris has heard that tone before, although rarely outside the bedroom.  He shuts up.  Actually, he’s pretty grateful that they’re going back to the hotel.  His ass is still sore and he can feel his shoulder aching where Zach bit him.  Not that he has any regrets.  But, still.  He could do with some recovery time.  And maybe some of that ass-cream he refused before.  It’s annoying how Zach is always right about that kind of thing.

They reach the Bowery and Chris notices that Zach pays double the fare, which mollifies the cab driver.  Zach doesn’t say a word as they enter the hotel, but Chris is too tired now to worry about it.  He yawns so hard he bends double in the elevator, and has to shake his head to clear it.  When he meets Zach’s eyes in the mirrored doors, Zach looks a little dangerous.

“We can fuck some more if you like,” Chris offers, “but I can’t promise I’ll be conscious for it.”

Zach’s reflection _glowers_ at him, and Chris turns his head to stare at non-mirror Zach.

“What?  I was joking.  Why are you so mad at me?”

But Zach just shakes his head.  He waits for Chris to get out of the elevator and walks closely behind him down the hall to the room.  Chris slumps against the wall for a second, feeling like he’s not properly in his body, and Zach takes the key card from his fumbling fingers.

“Get in there,” Zach says, holding open the door to the room.  But he doesn’t sound angry, just resigned.  “Go get changed and get into bed.”

“No,” Chris says stubbornly.  “You’re not the boss of me.”  _Okay, that was a ridiculous thing to say_.  He always used to tell his sister that when they fought as children.  “I mean…I’m nearly thirty fucking years old, I don’t need you telling me when it’s my _bedtime_.”  His words would probably have more weight if he’d managed to suppress the enormous yawn afterwards.

Zach takes his arm gently and steers him inside.  The room is lit only by the bedside lamp they left on.  The door slips softly shut behind them and Zach stands there looking at it for a minute, then turns to give Chris a strange look.  “I want to add another rule to the list.”

Chris groans.  “You can eat my goddamn food if it means _that_ much to you.”

“No,” Zach says sharply.  “I want the rule to be, ‘Zach can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and _however_ he wants to Chris.’”

“Um.  That seems a little extreme,” Chris says.  Even through his haze of fatigue, it doesn’t seem like something Zach would normally ask for.  “I’d have to think about that.  Is that…really something you think you want?”

“ _Of course not_ ,” Zach says, with a little explosive noise of frustration. 

“Then why are you getting all pissy?” Chris snaps.

“Because you seem to have lost all sense of self-preservation and it’s fucking _scary_ , Pine.  Not to mention, dangerous.”

“I preserve myself,” Chris says weakly.  “I’m…preserved.”

“No.  You are not.”  Zach sighs.  “You asked me to fuck you – _hard_ , with minimal prep so it _hurt_ – and then refused any aftercare.  You barely ate anything all day and then when I joked about finishing your dinner, you just passed it over.  I wanted to keep you out late and, despite the fact that you were about to die on your feet, you agreed.”  He pauses, and Chris can see that he’s troubled.  “I suggest some completely unreasonable rule and you – actually _consider_ it instead of telling me to shove it.  I mean, what next?”

“You think I’m getting dependent?” Chris asks, fearing the answer.

“This isn’t about dependency,” Zach frowns.  “Like I said, I’ll _tell_ you if that’s what I’m thinking.  Quit worrying about that.  I’m just trying to figure out why you’re so…”

Chris flushes in annoyance.  “Maybe because I _love_ you, you tool.”

Zach quirks his mouth.  “Touching.”

Chris tries to hang on to his irritation, but he can’t help himself – he smirks too.  “Okay, maybe that wasn’t the most romantic way to phrase it, but it’s true.  I want you to be happy.  It doesn’t seem like much of a sacrifice if that means giving you a bite of my dinner or staying awake a bit longer than I’d like.”

“But you have to take _care_ of yourself,” Zach insists.  He runs a fingernail lightly down Chris’s bicep, and smiles what Chris likes to call his Big Bad Wolf smile.  “You’re not going to be much use to me if you’re broken.”

Chris feels his head spin a little, and his breath picks up.  “No,” he agrees.  “No, that’s true.”

Zach pulls him close and hugs him.  “It’s very generous of you, Christopher,” he says.  “Altruistic, even.  But you need to be selfish sometimes too.”

“But then I do stupid stuff like drink too much and call you at two in the morning,” Chris points out.

“Okay, not selfish, then,” Zach says hurriedly.  “I’m sure Oprah has a term for it.  Appropriate self-interest or something.”

Chris laughs.  “Okay.  Point taken.  So I really need to pass out now.”

“Yeah, you do.  You look like a zombie.”

“ _But_ ,” Chris adds, “I have a request of appropriate self-interest.”

“Wow.  Didn’t take long.”

“Come on,” Chris says, pulling him towards the bed.  He pauses to strip his clothes quickly, sees Zach looking at him curiously.  “Don’t get too excited,” Chris says.  “I really _am_ about to pass out.”  Zach’s eyes crinkle in amusement.  When he gets to his boxer briefs, Chris gets into the bed and gives Zach an expectant look.

Zach shrugs and undresses to his underwear as well; gets into the other side of the bed when Chris pats it.  As soon as he’s in, Chris jumps him: winds his arms around him tightly and intertwines their legs.  Zach grins at him in delight. 

“You’re demanding _snuggles_?”

“You didn’t let me touch you at all before,” Chris points out.  “So now I get to touch you all night.”

“All night, huh?  That’s the deal?”

“Yep,” Chris tells him.  “That’s the deal.”

“Are you gonna drool on me if we sleep like this?  Maybe I should put on a shirt –”

“No,” Chris snorts.  “And you have to promise.  All night.  Even if you get too hot, just – at least hold my hand or something.”

“I promise,” Zach says.  “Even if I get too hot.  Touching, all night.”

“Hey,” Chris says, fighting to stay awake.  “Is that why you did that?  So I’d feel all…snuggle-starved?”  Because Zach is usually the one who likes to cuddle all night, following Chris unconsciously across the bed until they’re sleeping on the same pillow.  Normally Chris prefers a little space to flop around in.

Zach just smiles and reaches with his free hand to turn off the light.

“Tactical,” Chris tries to say.  The last things he’s conscious of before he sleeps are Zach’s arms around him and Zach’s lips on his own, murmuring _I missed you_ into his mouth.


End file.
